


Like Clockwork

by Marzipan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-29
Updated: 2012-04-29
Packaged: 2017-11-04 13:29:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/394410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marzipan/pseuds/Marzipan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur Weasley just entered into a race against time. There's only one way this can end: death.</p>
<p>Tick, tock. Tick, tock.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Like Clockwork

**9:43AM**   
******Friday, October 27, 2007**   
**Ministry of Magic  
** **London, England**

Arthur swirled the strong, milky liquid around in his cup, wishing it would cool a bit faster so he could comfortably enjoy it. Impatient, he took a sip anyway, burning his tongue in the process. His eyes watering at the sudden pain, he grabbed a biscuit off the glazed porcelain tray – much too prissy for his tastes, but a pattern he knew his son Percy was quite fond of – and popped it in his mouth in a bid to ease the burn.

“I’m sorry I won’t be joining you today, Father, but I’ll need to work right through the lunch hour if I want to have that report for the French Minister ready in time for the meeting this afternoon.” Percy sat placidly across from him, despite the urgency implied in his statement, sipping his own tea and apparently unaware of his father’s discomfort.

“Quite alright, Percy,” Arthur responded when he was able to speak again. “We’re all a bit behind in our paperwork after the week we’ve just had. I’m up to my ears in it, myself – it’ll be pure luck if I’m out of here for supper.”

Arthur gave a grimace, both at the thought of the mountain of paperwork sitting on his desk awaiting his return and the reception he was sure to get from his wife when he arrived home late – again.

“Yes, I hear you’ve had quite the week yourself, Father! Twelve raids in five days!”

“Thirteen.” Arthur corrected peevishly, checking the ornate clock on the wall. A quarter ten! Taking an experimental sip of his tea he found it had finally cooled enough to drink. Tossing the entire cup back in one go, Arthur pushed himself up from the cushioned chair.

“I’d better get going, Percy. If I don’t get some work done I’ll be skipping lunch myself!”

Percy stood too, and shook his father’s hand – Arthur couldn’t help chuckle to himself at the formality. “Of course, Father, I understand. The Ministry doesn’t just stop running for you or me! Be sure to tell Mother I’ll see her at supper tomorrow evening.”

Arthur nodded, slightly buoyed to have some good news to tell his wife. “She’ll be glad to hear it son; she’s missed you the last two weeks.”

There had been a time when such a statement would have thrown Percy into a rage at the imagined implication that his job was unimportant in the grand scheme of the Weasley clan. Now, however, Percy smiled congenially and responded, “I missed her too. Once this meeting is over I should have a good, long break coming to me.”

Arthur couldn’t help but beam with pride at the man before him, so different from the boy he had been back in those dark days. With a final heart-felt farewell, Arthur made his way out into the corridor, pointing himself in the direction of the lifts. He didn’t pay attention to the people or scenery he passed, lost in thoughts that, although still of the work that awaited him, were considerably less dark than before.

Preoccupied as he was, Arthur found himself halfway down a hallway before realizing he had passed his office door and quickly backtracked, glancing over his shoulder as he did so to be sure no one had witnessed his mistake.

_It’s the old age_ , Arthur chuckled to himself fondly. _Men my age should spend their days playing with their grandchildren, not chasing after petty crooks and blinding themselves with miles of parchment._ Indeed, there did seem to be miles of the stuff piled on his old, rickety desk – the same one he had had when he first entered the Ministry decades ago. Coming around the side of said desk, Arthur saw there was something else besides parchment weighing the old friend down – a plain red box, wrapped once around with a gold ribbon. Closer examination revealed a card bearing a flowing “I LOVE YOU”.

“Molly,” Arthur murmured fondly. It had been years since they had fallen out of the practice of sending each other small tokens of their love throughout the work day, but their explosive row that morning must have inspired his dear wife to return to the all but forgotten tradition. Opening the box, Arthur discovered an assortment of chocolates inside, and with delight he helped himself to several of their number.

His bad mood of that morning forgotten, Arthur settled in and set to work, determined to make his way through the workload and make it home for supper that evening. Arthur did in fact make impressive headway, sparing Caudwell – the young lad who had replaced old Perkins upon his retirement – only a sparing nod when he returned to the offices from his own mid-morning break.

It wasn’t until a particularly unpleasant rumble came from the direction of his stomach that Arthur glanced at the clock, to discover with some surprise that the morning had passed and it had come round lunch time already. Hurriedly scribbling down the last of his train of thought Arthur stood up – and almost toppled head first onto his desk.

“Mr Weasley! Are you alright, sir?” Caudwell was standing too now, and looked ready to leap across his desk to Arthur’s aid.

For his own part, Arthur righted himself with a hand leaning heavily on the arm of his chair. “Yes, yes, I’m fine.” The dizzy feeling subsided as quickly as it had come, and with more certainty Arthur continued, “Yes, just a sign that I need to get some lunch in me, I expect! Chocolates may be a fine meal for a younger man than I, but I’ll need something a bit heartier to keep me going.”

Caudwell still had a glint of concern in his eye, but Arthur simply bid him farewell before heading off to lunch. The sick, dizzy feeling returned when the magical lift started to move, but this time knowing what to expect, Arthur managed to keep control of himself with only a little extra weight put onto the hand leaning against the wall.

The lift doors opened with a soft hiss and Arthur pushed himself off and out, spotting Harry, Ron and Hermione already waiting for him beside the golden fountain in the middle of the massive lobby. He had made it halfway across to them when his vision seemed to grow fuzzy around the edges. A few more steps and everything seemed to be growing dim, as if someone was playing with a giant light switch. Arthur felt his legs give out at the same time everything went completely dark and his stomach gave one final, great heave.

The last thing he heard before he lost his senses all together was the panic-stricken shouts of, “DAD!”

 

***

**12:37PM  
** **Friday, October 26, 2007  
** **St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries  
** **London, England**

The bustle of the waiting room had a stale ring to it; the witches and wizards in various stages of distress that populated the room seemed to be separated off by a curtain from the corner where Percy stood with Ron and Harry, trying to fight off the sick/sour feeling at the pit of his stomach and praying that Hermione would hurry up and return from the reception area with some news about his father.

He had seen him only a few hours ago. It had only been a few hours, and Arthur had been fine. How could things have gone so badly wrong in so little time?

Hermione did return in short order, but from her dark expression and the habit she had picked up in her absence of worrying her hands it was clear she had learned nothing.

“What a horrid woman,” Hermione blustered. “She wouldn’t tell me a thing – said she needed to wait for next of kin. That would be Molly.” Hermione slowly lt a sigh out, her facade starting to slip. “She never responded to the Patronus I sent. Maybe – maybe one of us should head over to the Burrow to check on her?”

Ron paled at his wife’s suggestion and Percy though he knew why. Whatever was going on with their father, it was taking all Percy had in him to keep from giving in to the heart-wrenching worry that seemed to be hovering menacingly at the edge of his brain. The thought that something –anything – could be wrong with Molly as well was an idea that Percy simply could not entertain.

Hermione seemed to realize her mistake, for she flushed pink and rushed to add, “I’m sure she is just fine – perhaps she was out to the market. Or she might not have had her wand on her to answer ...”

Hermione trailed off, a look of relief spreading across her face.

“Oh, thank Merlin!”

Turning frantically, Percy expected to see his father behind him, up and well, in a brief moment of madness. The sight that met his eyes was not the happy image his mind had conjured up, but it did serve to quiet some of his fears from moments before. Moving across the large reception and waiting area with long, anxious strides was a fire-eyed Molly Weasley. Trailing along in her wake was Ginny, unable to keep up to her mother’s frenzied pace due to the gurgling newborn in her arms.

“Mum!” Ron jumped up from the hard plastic chair he had been resting in, and went over to embrace her. Swallowing past the hard lump in his throat, Percy followed and found himself in his mother’s fierce embrace next.

"What’s happened? Where is he?” Molly demanded after she had also hugged her son- and daughter-in-laws.

“We – we don’t know,” Hermione answered. “I was just talking to the welcome witch, but she – well, she had no information to give me.”

Molly seemed to deflate slightly at this, and Percy barely made out what she mumbled under her breath. “Oh my soul, I’ve been through this once before. I don’t know if I can do it again.

“Well,” Molly continued, loud enough for all to hear. “We’ll just have to see about that.”

Taking a deep breath – as if to re-inflate herself – Molly marched purposefully over to the reception desk, pushing through the crowded room with a level of aggression that was slightly frightening. She was soon lost from sight, but Percy still knew when she reached her destination. Although he could not make out the words, the sound of his mother’s angry voice reached him across the noisy and crowded room.

“We were starting to get a bit worried – we never received an answer from the Burrow.” Harry explained to Ginny as he lifted his daughter out of her arms, cooing softly.

“She showed up at the door after breakfast. Said she wanted to help with Lily, but she spent most of her time complaining about Dad, the Ministry and Muggle alarm clocks, in that order.” Ginny eased the bag full of baby supplies onto the tiled floor and eased herself into one of the plastic chairs with a sigh. “When I got your Patronus, Harry, we both packed up and rushed over. What happened to him?”

Harry explained all they knew to his wife in a hushed tone, but Percy didn’t bother listening, having had it all explained to him when he joined the group on their way to St. Mungo’s with Arthur. Instead he found himself gazing at the people around him, wondering at their stories and if they were feeling as lost as he was. Molly had been right – they had all been through this once before, years ago. All, that was, except for him. He was not proud of that time in his life, but the last time his father had been rushed to St. Mungo’s – that far away time due to a near fatal snake attack – Percy had not rushed to be by his side with the rest of the family. In fact, when he finally heard the news he hadn’t even allowed himself to show concern, not wanting his allegiances to be questioned by his superiors. And so he had shrugged, muttered a non-committal “That’s too bad” and had immediately hated himself for it.

Percy found himself drowning in guilt – both for not noticing anything wrong with his father at tea, and for doing nothing all those years earlier. His gaze still swept the room, but his eyes didn’t see what was in front of them. He didn’t realize that Molly had returned until she was almost on top of him, a young man in lime green trailing behind her looking thoroughly chastised.

“Mother!”

“This is Healer Darby. He is going to take us to Arthur.” Molly explained briskly, her voice only wavering slightly on Arthur’s name.

“Your husband is being transferred to a room on the third floor as we speak.” Healer Darby said, addressing himself to Molly as he lead the group of them into a corridor and towards the stairwell.

_Third floor?!_ Percy thought with a start. _But third floor is for –_

“We have determined that your husband has been poisoned by something fairly powerful. Our healers have been able to stabilize him for now, but without knowing exactly what was used to poison him there is only so much we can do for him.”

“Poisoned? Someone poisoned Arthur? No, there must be some mistake. Why would anyone want to hurt Arthur?”

Whatever Molly had expected, this was clearly not something she had prepared herself for. She stopped in her tracks, a hand clutched to her chest. Ginny went to her side and put an arm around her in comfort. Even Percy felt like he’d taken one to the gut, and he had had some idea of what the healer had been about to say. Healer Darby paused in front of a plaque on the stairwell wall proclaiming ‘ _Third Floor: Potion and Plant Poisoning_ ’ to allow Molly a chance to process what he had told her.

“Whatever it was that was used on your husband isn’t something he would have gotten into by accident. But we have a potions expert coming to examine him; if anyone can help Mr. Weasley it will be her.” Darby tried to reassure them. From the look on Ron’s face, he wasn’t doing a very good job. He pushed open the door beside him and ushered everyone out into another hallway.

“You have him stabilized, though. That’s a good sign, right?” Hermione prompted.

“Ah, well – Ah! Here is the expert I was just telling you about! She’s much more able than I to explain your father’s condition.”

A woman was hurrying down the corridor ahead of them, her long dark hair swinging down her back. Her robes were of a paler green than Darby’s, signifying her higher rank. At the sound of Darby’s voice she turned to face them and Percy felt a shock of recognition.

“Healer Clearwater, this is the family of your patient. Would you mind showing them to his room, since you are on your way yourself?” Darby seemed keen to be on his own way.

Penelope met Percy’s eyes for only a moment before looking away and answering in a quiet voice, “Yes, I know who they are. Be on your way Darby, I’ll take things from here.

“Mrs. Weasley, I’m so sorry to hear about your husband. Hopefully I’ll be able to find a way to help him.” Penelope shook Molly’s hand warmly and turned to lead them down the hall to Arthur’s room. They stopped at a door that looked identical to all the others stretching down the corridor. “I’m going to go in and run some tests, and then I will put him into a state of stasis. This should hopefully stop the poison from spreading any further through his system while I work on a cure.”

“Can I come in while you are working on him?” Molly asked uncertainly.

Penelope looked unsure. “Well, technically I’m not supposed to ... but yes, I suppose. It will have to be just you though, Mrs. Weasley. Once your husband is in stasis the rest of the family can join you.”

Molly nodded silently and gave little Lily a kiss on the forehead before following Penelope into the room. Hermione and Ginny both settled back against the opposite wall to wait, but as soon as the door was closed Ron turned back the way they had come, a determined expression on his face.

“Where are you going?” Hermione asked with sharp surprise. Ron reluctantly stopped in his tracks and turned to his wife.

“You heard him. Someone poisoned Dad. I’m not going to let whoever it was get away with that.”

“And what exactly do you plan on doing? Rush off to arrest them? You don’t even know who did this!” Hermione’s voice rose a octave or two.

“Hermione, he’s right.” Hermione twisted to face Harry, a hand placed protectively over her swollen stomach, but Harry continued quickly before she had a chance to interrupt. “The Healers also said the best chance Arthur has is in finding out what he was poisoned with. If we find whoever did this, we will find what they used.”

Hermione looked like she wanted to argue further, but, unable to come up with a valid point she was forced to settle with a displeased sigh. “Harry Potter, you watch after him. Bring him back here safely.”

Harry nodded, and quickly kissed Ginny and baby Lily before following Ron down the hallway. Without thinking, Percy ran after them, ignoring Ginny as she yelled his name. Catching up with the two Aurors just as they reached the stairwell, Percy skidded to a halt.

“Perce?” Ron’s surprise matched Ginny’s, but Percy ignored it.

“Listen,” Percy puffed. “When you find this guy, whoever he is – do whatever you need to do. I didn’t want to say this in front of the girls, but – I can guarantee you that whatever measures you take, there will be no follow up by the Ministry.”

“Percy, what are you saying?” Harry stared hard at him, and Percy supposed Harry was unsure how to take such an out of character announcement from his law-abiding brother-in-law.

“What I’m saying,” Percy said slowly, “is that I am giving you immunity. Whatever needs to be done, do it. It’s the least I can do to help.”

_This time_ , Percy added silently. Ron still looked puzzled at his unexpected action, but Percy thought he saw a spark of understanding flash in Harry’s eyes. The bespectacled man clapped him on the shoulder warmly before disappearing down the stairs with Ron in tow. Percy stayed where he was for a moment more, giving thanks for the understanding and forgiveness that had been carried in that last gesture, before turning and slowly making his way back to his father’s room to wait with Hermione and Ginny.

 

***

**1:42PM  
** **Friday, October 26, 2007  
** **Ministry of Magic  
** **London, England**

Ron sighed explosively, knocking his fist into the wall. “That was a waste of time. The useless ponce didn’t know anything.”

Although Harry privately agreed with his best friend on the usefulness of their interview with Percy’s assistant, he tried to stay positive about their progress. “We did send sample’s of their tea back to St. Mungo’s. Maybe the Healers will find something.”

“You don’t believe that anymore than I do,” Ron snorted. “If it was the tea, Percy would be sick too.”

Harry couldn’t argue with that, so he said nothing until they reached Arthur’s office. Knocking once on the pebbled glass, Harry pushed the door open and was met with what appeared to be an empty room. “Caudwell?”

There was the thump of flesh and bone hitting wood and a muttered curse before the young man in question appeared from behind a towering pile of parchment. “M – Mr. Potter. Mr. Weasley.”

“Caudwell,” Harry rejoined congenially, ignoring the other man’s nervous stuttering. “What in blazes are you doing with all those reports? They’re liable to come crashing down and bury you.”

A blush formed to accompany the stutter. “I – I just thought I’d get a head start on it, you know? For when Mr. Weasley comes back to work. I figure he was working too hard, that’s why he took the funny spell. So, I thought if I had this all done before he came back ...”

Caudwell trailed off, probably mistaking the look in Ron’s face for anger. Knowing him for as long as he had, Harry knew that his best friend twisted expression really signified he was closer to fighting off tears than exploding with rage. Recognizing Ron’s emotional state, Harry took point for the interview.

“Caudwell, Arthur didn’t collapse because he was over-worked,” Harry began gently. “He was poisoned. And we need you to try and remember if there was anything weird this morning – did anything happen that seemed out of place?”

“Poisoned? How – why ...?”

“We’re hoping you can help us find out. Is there anything out of place you can think of?”

Caudwell’s eyebrows drew together in concentration as he thought back over the morning’s events. “Well – Mr. Weasley came in the same time he did every morning, worked on some reports – we’re backed up, you know, from all the raids this week. We worked on that all morning. Mr. Weasley went to have tea with his son ...” Caudwell’s eyes darted towards Ron at those words, before continuing. “When he got back, we keep working until lunch. He seemed dizzy when he first stood up, like he was going to fall over. He said he was just hungry, but I should have done something ...”

Harry clapped a hand on the man’s shoulder, trying to temper the guilt in his eyes. “You couldn’t have known. And there was little you could have done anyway. Do you mind if we have a look around?”

Caudwell nodded before excusing himself back to his desk and towering piles of reports. Following Ron over to Arthur’s work area, which was in a similar state of disarray, Harry tried not to lose all hope of finding some clue to what exactly had happened to Arthur. Harry chose to scan the shelves lining the wall, leaving Ron to go over his father’s desk. There were family photos, the occupants smiling and waving from the mismatched frames. Old and battered tomes, whose subjects where so diverse there would be no sense in grouping them in any kind of order. And, unsurprisingly, random bits of Muggle paraphernalia – outlet covers, silver lighters, a worn stethoscope, match-books, and sitting proudly on display in the middle of it all was a bright yellow rubber duck. All of it was familiarly, comfortably, Arthur. None of it, however, held any of the answers Harry sought.

“Any luck?” Harry asked quietly, turning away from the display of shelves in defeat.

“No,” Ron answered in frustration. “There’s nothing here but repor – Wait!”

Ron had been in the process of pushing some of the smaller stacks around the desktop, but he had frozen in place and was staring at something on the desk. Following his gaze, Harry discovered what had stopped his friend in his tracks – the corner of something red and shiny emerging from one of those piles of paper. Moving forward again, this time with purpose, Ron knocked the parchment off the desk and onto the floor. A half eaten box of chocolates was revealed, the empty wrappers crumpled in the box alongside their untouched partners.

Pulling his wand, Harry floated the box up into the air. “You dad wasn’t exactly a chocolate fiend, was he Ron?”

“He never bought sweets.” Nodding at Ron’s grim tone, Harry turned to Arthur’s young assistant. “Caudwell, where did this box come from?”

Jumping once more in surprise, Caudwell rose from his work to answer. “Why, Mr. Weasley’s wife sent that to him this morning.”

“Mum sent it?” Ron’s brows knit together in confusion. “That doesn’t make sense. How do you know they are from her?”

“Mr. Weasley told me so,” Caudwell gulped. “It came while he was at tea. He told me ... well, he said it was like a, well, an apology.”

Caudwell was clearly uncomfortable discussing such personal details with the son of the man in question, for he had flushed progressively pinker as he spoke.

“An apology?” Ron repeated. When Caudwell nodded, Ron turned to Harry and said, “This has to be it. Mum’s been doing her nut over Dad all morning, you heard Ginny. She wouldn’t have sent him chocolates.”

Harry couldn’t help but privately agree; such a gesture would be rather out of character for Molly in a complete rage. Searching around quickly, Harry snapped up the lid and fit it firmly in place. “Caudwell, you said these arrived while Arthur was at tea?”

“Yes, it came by owl.”

Harry tapped his wand against the box in his hand, sealing it. “Caudwell, I need you to do us a favour. Take this down to the Auror department. Tell them we need this sent to Healer Clearwater at St. Mungo’s immediately.”

Caudwell took the proffered box and quickly made his way off to the Auror offices. Ron waited until he had gone to turn to face Harry, a light of hope in his eyes once more. “This is it, Harry. We’ve found it!”

Harry couldn’t bring himself to disagree. “Come on, we’re not done yet. All unofficial post coming into the Ministry has to go through the Central London Owl Office. If we’re going to find who did this, we’ll have to start there.”

Hurrying to the Ministry lobby, they Apparated directly to the lobby of the Owl Office – empty but for them at this time in the afternoon. The room was full of the strong, musty smell that cannot be helped when many owls live in such close proximity, and a soft, constant hooting came from behind the long, polished granite counter behind which two bored looking witches sat playing a game of wizard’s chess. The two women looked up at Harry and Ron’s approach, quickly stashing their game board below the counter.

“Welcome to the Central London Owl Office, how can we help you?”

“We’re with the Auror department,” Harry explained, flashing his credentials. “We have some questions about a package that was sent from this office earlier this morning.”

“We’ll help any way we can, gentlemen. What is it you need?”

Harry explained the basics of the situation, ending with a description of the package and the approximate time it was sent. The elder of the two witches pulled a roll of parchment out and tapped it with her wand, causing writing to appear.

“I think I remember the package you are talking about – yes, here it is. Wrapped parcel; 0.68 kilograms; two Sickles, six Knuts. Ministry of Magic, Attn: Arthur Weasley. No return address.”

Ron cursed under his breath at the last, but Harry hadn’t really expected whoever was responsible to leave an easy trail to follow. “Is there anything you can remember about the person who sent it? What they looked like, any distinguishing features?”

Thinking for a moment, the witch described the man in question as best she could while Harry charmed his wand to draw the image in the air before them, making adjustments with each additional detail. Finally, the image of a fairly nondescript man stood before them, thin brown hair falling into matching brown eyes.

“Is this the man?”

The elder witch nodded, but the younger of the two looked thoughtful. “His nose was crooked, like it had been broken at one time.”

The elder witch nodded again in agreement, and Harry’s wand quickly added in the final detail; the finished product was left hanging in mid-air, and was met with the approving murmurs from both ladies. Harry looked hard at the mild-mannered face floating before him. This seemingly innocuous young man was the cause of the pain and fear that was gripping Harry’s family.

“Ladies, thank you for your time. You’ve been a huge help to us.” Ron told them, a dangerous looking spreading across his features. Turning to his partner, he continued. “Come on Harry, let’s go. We need to find some record of this bastard.”

The two men Apparated back to the Ministry in quick succession and Ron immediately started off to the lifts and the Auror offices beyond, Harry rushing to keep up.

“Ron, wait up! We don’t even know if this is the right guy.”

“Of course it’s the right guy, Harry! We have to find out who he is and find a cure for Dad!”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. But we don’t know if we’ll be able to find him, or if we will find a cure when we do.” The doors of the lifts slid open, revealing the hallway beyond, but Harry stepped in front of Ron, wanting to finish what he had to say before the red-head ran off. “I just – I don’t want you to get your hopes up, okay? This might not be the lead we’re looking for.”

“For Merlin’s sake Harry, I know that!” Ron pushed his way out into the hall. “But we won’t know for sure until we look. Now stop fooling around; your wand is the one with this bastard’s description.”

Harry followed Ron out of the elevator with a sigh, the magical doors closing on him as he went. Ron still had all his hopes tied into finding some sort of record tied to the description they had, and that was the only thing moving his friend forward. Harry would just have to follow until Ron’s hope ran out and he stopped moving – he suspected that was what Hermione had meant when she made Harry promise to watch after her husband.

Ron led the way down the hall and into their offices, barking orders as he entered.

“If this guy is running around poisoning people for no reason, he’ll probably have some sort of past record. We can check the Auror’s databank first to see if he’s in there – if not we can check the Muggle’s records.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Harry found himself saying again, heading for a large, steel filing cabinet at the back of the room, Junior Auror’s scattering out of his and Ron’s way. “This was too smoothly done; it doesn’t feel like his first brush with crime.”

Reaching their destination, Harry pulled on the painted handle of the top drawer. The drawer slid open with a screech, revealing a jumble of parchment. The top sheet twitched slightly before rising into the air and forming a mouth.

“Welcome to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement Databank, please enter your identification and state the purpose of your inquiry.”

“Harry Potter, Senior Auror.” Harry thrust his wand arm straight into the drawer, causing it to glow a soft yellow, after which he pulled his arm back out. “I have the description of a suspect here, and I’m looking for any past records on him.”

As he spoke, the image his wand had generated back in the Owl Office’s flowed out of the holly tip and drifted down into the open drawer.

“One moment please.” The automated voice came from the suspended paper mouth as the drawer below it closed and a whirring sound issued from within. Almost at once the drawer flew open and a second piece of parchment floated up from its depths. Ron reached out and snatched it from the air.

“Doyle, Eddie. Charged with distributing jinxed Muggle alarm clocks; it was his third offence and he was fined and lost his business license. I knew it Harry! I knew we would find something on this guy!”

“Ron, look.” Harry felt his stomach twinge. “Look who filed the report.”

“Arthur Weasley,” Ron breathed. “Dad busted him. That’s what this is all about? Fifty Galleons and a lost license are the reason my father is lying in a hospital bed?!”

“Is there an address, any contact information?”

Ron scanned the rest of the page, turned it over and then threw it back in the drawer in disgust. “It’s only half completed. Dad said they were behind in their filing.”

“Don’t give up yet, Ron. If he had a license, he would have to have given out that information. Wilson!”

A nearby Junior Auror jumped and scrambled over. Harry handed her the piece of parchment Ron had abandoned.

“I need you to find all the information you can on this guy. I need a home address, and I need it yesterday.” The young woman nodded eagerly and ran off. “Come on, Ron. Let’s go.”

“Where to, Harry? We should be here, working on finding Doyle.”

Harry just shook his head. “Who knows how long that will take? Wilson is more than capable of handling that. We should take advantage of the time we have now – we’re going back to St. Mungo’s.”

 

***

**5:1** **6PM  
** **Friday, October 26, 2007  
** **St Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries  
** **London, England**

“Weasley, yes. For the fifth time, it’s Arthur Weasley. He is my father which means I am his family. I know he’s here somewhere!”

The flustered Welcome Witch turned back to her records and Charlie leaned against the desk with a sigh, running a frustrated hand through his hair. As soon as he had received his mother’s Patronus he had dropped everything to get here. Unfortunately, the Romanian authorities weren’t as sympathetic to his plight and had kept him waiting through several hours of red tape. He had literally just arrived, his sparsely packed over-night bag still in hand only to be stopped at his destination by still more red tape. His patience at the breaking point, Charlie was ready to jump behind the counter and get the information he wanted for himself when he a soft voice from behind him drew his attention.

“Charlie?”

Turning, Charlie found Angelina loaded down with brown paper bags that where emitting some very tempting smells. The rumble that came from his stomach in answer to those smells reminded Charlie that the last thing he had eaten was the quick lunch he had grabbed – four hours before receiving word from his mother.

“Angelina, thank goodness. This duffer has had me here running in circles for fifteen minutes! What’s in the bag?” The girl behind the desk flushed darker than ever, but said nothing.

Angelina laughed. “All you Weasley are the same; you only think with your stomach. It’s Indian take-away for the family. Come on, there’s more than enough for you too.”

Charlie grabbed one of the bags from Angelina and followed her up to the third floor. Turning a final corner into what should have been another hallway, Charlie was rather shocked to find the entire corridor turned into a make-shift wait-room, complete with cushioned chairs and a small play area which was currently overflowing with tiny bodies, George’s heading bobbing above the throng.

“Charlie, oh heavens! You made it!” Molly rushed over and enveloped him in a hug, squishing the take-away in the process.

“Hey there,” Charlie said softly, pulling away and brushing a tear from his mother’s cheek. “I would be here even if it meant stealing a port-key from the Romanians. Which it almost came to, now that I mention it.”

Molly swatted him lightly on the arm before taking his hand and pulling him over to the rest of the family. Angelina was already there, dolling out styrofoam boxes. Charlie set his own bag down beside her, took a proffered box and settled into one of the empty seats beside Ginny.

“How are they, little sis?” Charlie asked, eyeing his mother who had taken Albus into her lap and was feeding him bits of butter chicken.

“A wreck,” Ginny replied bluntly. “Dad’s – well, I don’t really know because they had to put him in stasis. But when I was in to see him he looked horrible, Charlie. Like he was already...” Ginny stopped, swallowed and started again.

“I couldn’t stay in there looking at him like that. Hermione says he looks worse than when he came in. And Mum, well, Mum hasn’t stopped fussing over us. She just hasn’t stopped. And she hasn’t been back in to see Dad. We’re taking turns, Fleur is in there now, but Mum hasn’t been in since Healer Clearwater left.”

Charlie patted Ginny’s hand, noting the fear in her eyes. “Do they know how it happened?”

“Ron and Harry are off investigating. They sent a sample of something over; whatever it was, I haven’t seen any of the Healers since, so they must still be working on it. But he was poisoned, Charlie. Who would poison Dad?”

Charlie could only shake his head; that was a question he had been asking himself since he first found out and he still hadn’t hit upon any answers. A second growl from his stomach brought his attention back to his food, still sitting unopened in his lap.

“What did you get?” Ginny asked, peering into her own styrfoam box.

“Curried vegetables. You?”

“Chicken tikka. Trade?”

Charlie gladly swapped boxes and their conversation fell silent, as he was too busy ripping the meat off of the skewers with his teeth.

“Too bad Ron, it doesn’t look like there will be any left for us. Charlie is here.”

Charlie’s head whipped up and he followed Ginny’s gaze to where her husband stood, a small smile playing across his face. Charlie opened his mouth to retort, but looking down saw that his box was in fact emptied, and he was chewing on a stripped skewer. Harry walked over to the two of them, while Ron made a beeline for where Angelina sat with the left-over food.

“Don’t know what you mean, mate. Ron’s the bottomless tosser in the family, everyone knows that.”

Harry clapped Charlie on the shoulder as he bent down to kiss Ginny’s cheek. He then settled into the chair on the opposite side of her. “What time did you get in, Charlie?”

“Five, and it was a right lot of trouble I had getting here at all. But where have you been? Ginny’s telling me you and Ron are off playing Hardy Boys.”

Harry scowled. “Something like that. But we found him – we know who he is, at least. He was involved in one of the raids this last week. It looks like this is revenge. But don’t mention anything to your mother. I don’t want her worrying over that until we know anything for sure. Have there been any updates on this end?”

“No,” Ginny puffed. “We haven’t seen or heard anything since you sent over those samples. But Healer Clearwater should be back to check on Dad soon, so hopefully she’ll have some good news for us.”

Harry nodded and helped himself to a piece of eggplant from Ginny’s curry. Charlie also snatched up a bit of vegetable, although he earned a smack for it. Ginny’s curry was completely cleared out by the time Healer Clearwater made her appearance.

“We’ve discovered what was used to poison your husband.”

“Oh, thank Merlin! So you can heal him? He’s going to be fine?” Molly’s face lit up, and she grasped one hand to her breast, the other still clutched around Albus.

Clearwater hesitated before answering. “We – we hope so, yes. The poison that was used was some variation of oleander. We just need to figure out what that variation is.”

“Oleander?” Hermione asked in surprise. “That’s one of the most poisonous plants in the world!”

“Yes, but we have dealt with it before; it’s not that difficult to treat if you catch it in time. Whatever this is we’re dealing with, though, has resisted every attempt we’re made so far.”

“So what does this mean?” Molly pressed.

“It means we are well on our way to curing your husband, Mrs. Weasley. I have to run some more tests right now, but I will let you know straight away about any breakthroughs.” Clearwater retreated into Arthur’s room, Hermione accompanying her to relieve Fleur.

“So – that was good news, right?” Charlie asked, more confused than he had been before Clearwater showed up.

“Yes,” Ginny declared firmly. “Yes, it is good news. It means -”

She was cut off by the appearance of a silvery goose in their midst. Gliding serenely though the air, it came to a stop in front of Harry and a soft, female voice issued from its beak.

“A home address was found for Eddie Doyle; he’s located in Leicester. A team is being assembled, and awaiting your orders.”

“Leicester?” Molly asked, her gaze going from Harry to Ron, both of whom already had wands drawn and were heading back down the hall the way they had come. “Who is Eddie Doyle?”

“He’s the man who’s going to tell us how to save Dad.” Ron threw over his shoulder, pausing at the turn in the corridor. “We just have to convince him to share what he knows.”

 

***

**6:22PM  
** **Friday, October 26, 2007  
** **Highfields  
** **Leicester, England**

They Apparated into a narrow alley down the street from the run down house that Eddie Doyle owned. Along with Wilson, who’s Patronus had summoned them back to the Ministry, Ron and Harry were also accompanied by a young man named Jenkins who had five years of field work under his belt. The evening shadows hid their sudden appearance from any Muggle passersby, and their presence went completely unnoticed as they crept from the alley and down the street, sticking to the deep shadows that clung to the sides of the buildings.

The sun was kissing the horizon as they approached a small two story stuffed between a hardware store and a boarded up bookstore. At first glance, the house itself seemed as abandoned as the bookstore, but Harry paused several meters from the front door, raising a hand to stop the rest of them from moving forward.

“There are wards up just ahead there; they don’t feel too strong, but they are defiantly meant to keep people out. These Muggles wouldn’t see anything but another boarded-up store front. There shouldn’t be any problem breaking through, but we’ll be announcing our presence when we do. Two of us will Apparate around back to head off any escape, and the other two will break through and enter through the front door.”

“Wilson, you stick with me,” Ron said. “Harry, you take Jenkins around back. We’ll wait a count of ten after you Apparate, and then we’re going in.”

They agreed to the plan and split up, and Ron counted slowly down. Reaching ten, he turned to Wilson, who was standing nervously beside him.

“Ready?”

“Let’s go,” she responded. Her voice was steady and even, and reassured Ron about her inclusion in the team despite her lack of field experience.

They moved forward, wands drawn, and as Harry had predicted the wards folded over like wet cardboard under their assault. Without pause, Ron kicked open the front door and entered a dingy front hallway, Wilson bringing up the rear. The hall stretched out in front of them, and a doorway to their left led into a dusty room devoid of furniture.

“Watch it!” Wilson cried out behind him, crashing into his back and knocking him to the floor. A jet of red went flying past where his head had been moments before and slammed into the door-jam. Wilson was already firing back, and Ron joined in. Under a double assault, their assailant turned and ran further into the house and Ron got a clear look at him for the first time – Eddie Doyle, as described to them by the ladies from the Owl Office. Ron shot a stunner, just missing his retreating back.

“Doyle!”

Jumping to his feet, Ron gave chase, trusting Wilson to cover his approach. Bursting headlong through the door Doyle had disappeared through, Ron found himself in the kitchen. Doyle was at the opposite end heading directly towards the back door. Shooting again, Ron’s momentum threw off his aim. He did manage to hit Doyle’s arm, knocking his wand to the floor. Doyle, obviously seeing Harry and Jenkins charging in from the back, turned to find Ron blocking the doorway to the front of the house.

A panicked look darted across Doyle’s face, and he continued his turn, pulled open what Ron had assumed was a cupboard and scurried up a staircase seconds before Harry burst through the back door. Cursing his stupidity, he pointed up the stairs and gave chase, racing up right behind Harry, Wilson and Jenkins bring up the rear.

The stairs ended in a hallway, the twin of the one Ron and Wilson had entered through. Ron reached the top just in time to hear Harry shout “Expelliarmus!” Following Harry’s footsteps with less urgency now, Ron found his best friend standing before Doyle, who was bound with rope on the floor.

“You’re not getting away this time, Doyle,” Harry spat in disgust. A second wand was gripped in his hand. Following Ron’s gaze, Harry explained. “He had it stashed up here – was getting ready to Apparate out when I disarmed him.”

“You three search the house,” Ron said grimly. “I’ll question our suspect, here.”

Harry studied Ron’s face, as he had done many times that day. This time, however, he agreed with whatever he found there. “Jenkins, go down and see about those plants we saw out back. Wilson, you come with me. We’ll start at the bottom and work out way up.”

Harry clapped Ron on the shoulder before ushering the two Junior Aurors out, closing the door firmly behind him. Ron stared at the closed door for a moment before turning back to Doyle, who was glaring up at him with fury.

“Do you know who I am, scum-bag?” Doyle didn’t answer, so Ron continued. “You put my father in the hospital this morning.”

“Weasley,” Doyle sneered, his voice possessing a high, reed-y tone. “A disgusting ginger, who else would you be?”

Ron casually kicked Doyle in the side, causing him to cry out and spit in Ron’s direction. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll tell me how to cure him now. Otherwise ... things might have to get messy.”

Doyle laughed, his voice breaking at the end, revealing the fear hiding beneath his bravado. “There is no cure. Your old man is done for. Those chocolates are the next best thing to Basilisk venom, and judging from his gut, the greedy pig probably ate the whole box.”

Ron felt something that had been wearing thin all day snap inside him. With a flick of Ron’s wand Doyle flew across the room and slammed into the wall. Walking over, Ron pushed his face right next to Doyle’s. “For your sake, you better be lying.”

All of Doyle’s bravado crumpled at this unexpected assault, and he sobbed a plea for mercy. Ron took a step back, and Doyle babbled out the whole story. In the end, he simply hung there, shaking his head back and forth and whispering, “He’s a dead man. _I’m_ a dead man.”

A sick-sour lead lump formed in Ron’s stomach; there was no question now that Doyle might be lying. With another flick of his wand, Ron stunned Doyle to quiet him and lowered him back to the floor. After double-checking that his bonds were secure, Ron left the room, clinging to the hope that Harry’s search of the house might be more productive.

Ron found his three companions in the kitchen; Jenkins and Wilson both averted their gaze, but Harry tried unsuccessfully to meet Ron’s eye. “Did you find anything?”

“The plants out back are definitely magical hybrids, probably of this oleander plant. Wilson and I found a fully equipped potions lab downstairs – poison, drugs, you name it. Jenkins here is going to take samples of it all back to St. Mungo’s, but it will be a bit longer before Wilson and I finish collecting everything to take back to the Ministry.”

“I’ll help; it will go faster with three.”

“What about Doyle?”

“Doyle’s secure upstairs; you can go babysit him if you want. I’m going to work on the basement.” Ron got up from the table, and after exchanging glances with Harry, Wilson got up as well to lead Ron down. Harry whispered a few last instructions to Jenkins before following. At the basement stairs Harry reached out and grabbed Ron’s arm, allowing Wilson to go on ahead. Alone, Harry repeated his question.

"What about Doyle? What did he say?”

Ron tried to pull away, but Harry held him fast. Finally, in frustration, Ron met his friend’s gaze. “He said he’s a dead man.”

 

***

**10:49PM  
** **Friday, October 26, 2007  
** **St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries  
** **London, England**

The lights had been dimmed, and the make-shift waiting room had emptied out by the time Ron and Harry made it back to St. Mungo’s themselves. All but the immediate family had gone home. Charlie and George were leaning back to back, snoring loudly against the far wall. Percy sat by himself, staring off into space. Ginny sat with Molly, and the older woman’s head kept bobbing on her neck. Harry headed over to join them, but Ron stood where he was, scanning the room for his wife. He found her stretched out on a padded bench, her chest rising and falling softly. He approached quietly, but when he got close enough he saw that she wasn’t asleep at all, and was instead staring up at the ceiling. Her gaze moved to him and she whispered softly, “Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” Ron whispered back. Hermione sat up slightly to make room for Ron to sit, and then leaned back against his chest. “Why aren’t you sleeping?”

Hermione smiled ruefully and patted her swollen belly. “I can’t sleep, but Molly insisted I lay down.”

“She’s right, you know.” Ron kissed the top of his wife’s head. “Where is Bill? And the kids?”

“Bill’s in with Arthur right now, but George should be going in soon to let him get a bit of sleep. The children are with Audrey and Angelina; they offered to take them so we could all stay here.”

Ron nodded slowly and then asked the question he had been afraid to at first. “Is there any news? With all the evidence we sent over, did they make a break-through?”

Hermione was silent for so long that Ron thought perhaps she hadn’t heard him. But then she sighed and took his hand in her own.

“I don’t think it’s good. We haven’t heard anything but – I saw Penelope earlier, on my way to the tea room. She looked really worried, as if she was at her wits end. And I can’t be positive, but the other Healers seem to be avoiding us.

“It-it’s not looking good, Ron. What will we do if we lose him? We can’t. This family needs Arthur.”

It was Ron’s turn to stay silent this time, as Hermione’s words echoed around in his head alongside Doyle’s.

“When I found him, Hermione, he laughed in my face. He said there was no cure. He said Dad was a dead man.” The tears Ron had been holding in all day leaked silently down his face as he spoke. Hermione twisted around to face him, gently wiping at his cheek with her free hand.

“Oh, Ron.”

Tears began forming in Hermione’s eyes too. Ron wiped furiously at his own, and with forced confidence said, “We’ll just have to wait and see in the morning. Maybe there will be news in the morning.”

Hermione squeezed Ron’s hand tightly and settled back into his embrace. “You’re right. We’ll just have to wait for the morning.” The hope in her voice rang hollow.

 

***

**7:28AM  
** **Saturday, October 27, 2007  
** **St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries  
** **London, England**

The sudden flare of bright light woke Bill. He groaned and rolled over in bed, only to discover he was still at the hospital as he scrambled to stay in his chair. Squinting his eyes, he glanced at his watch to see that it was half seven. With a sigh he straightened his hair and rubbed at hand over his face, feeling the stubble growing there.

_A coffee is in order,_ he thought to himself. He made his way up to the tea room and purchased a large cardboard cup. Now fuelled, he made his way back to third floor leisurely, sipping away at the steaming brew. Turning back into what he had taken to calling the Weasley corridor, he saw that his mother had awoken while he was gone, and was talking quietly to Healer Clearwater. He approached the two, eager for any news on his father’s condition.

“ – I’m sorry, Mrs. Weasley. I know this isn’t the news you’ve been hoping for.”

“What?” Bill asked sharply. “What news? What’s going on, Mum?”

Molly appeared to be in shock, just sitting there shaking her head. Healer Clearwater looked upon her with sympathy before turning to Bill. “I was just explaining to Mrs Weasley that we have been unable to find any way to treat your father. I had my team of five working all through the night, but nothing we’ve tried seems to be working.”

“Well, you’ll just have to keep trying, right? I mean, it’s only been a day.”

“Normally, that would be the case, but – well, your father’s condition has deteriorated even further throughout the night. Despite the stasis spell, and everything I have tried, his organs are starting to fail. I’ve never seen anything this aggressive.”

“What are you saying?”

“She’s saying that Arthur is dying,” Molly interjected flatly. She made to go on, but nothing came out. Bill leaned over and embraced her, feeling the tremors racking her body.

“At his current rate of decline, Mr. Weasley has perhaps twelve hours, probably less.” Healer Clearwater paused, unsure how to go on. “I can reverse the stasis spell, to allow the family to say their good-byes to him, but – without the stasis spell there will be nothing standing in the way of this poison. He’ll have an hour, two at the most once the stasis is removed. I’ll give you time to think over your options...”

“No,” Molly interrupted. “No, I don’t need to think over my options. I can’t lose Arthur without saying good-bye. When the rest of the family arrives, you can reverse the stasis spell.”

Molly stood shakily and took out her wand. Four spectral shapes burst from its tip and disappeared too quickly for Bill to get a good look at their form. “I’m going to go see your father now.”

His mother disappeared from sight through the hospital room door, leaving Bill holding his now-forgotten cup of coffee. He wasn’t sure how long he stood there, all he knew was that he was knocked out of his daze by George, now awake.

“Bill, what’s the story? You asleep on your feet?”

Coming to with a start, Bill stared at George, unsure what to say to him. The worry in George’s face deepened. “Get everyone awake, George. It’s not good.”

Whatever it was George saw in Bill’s eyes, he did not argue with his elder brother. Rounding the Weasley corridor, George shook and prodded the rest of the siblings awake, aiming a kick at Ron’s backside when nothing else would rouse him from his snoring. The all rose and rallied around Bill, who still didn’t know how he could possibly break the news to them.

“Dad – Dad is dying. There is nothing more they can do. When the rest of the family arrives, we’re taking him out of stasis and -” Bill’s voice broke, but he forced himself to go on. “We’ll have our chance to say good-bye.”

Bill's words were met with the same shock and disbelief he felt, but he could not find the strength to offer any comfort. He took a sip from his cardboard cup only to find its contents grown cold. Peering into its murky depths, he announced a second trip to the tearoom and left without another word, surprised cries dying in his wake.

Bill remembered being in this situation before, years ago, and Arthur had managed to pull himself from the jaws of death, as though by some miracle. Bill was starting to realize that since that night, he had begun to see his father as invincible - even Voldemort's own serpent hadn't been able to lay the elder Weasley low! This belief had persisted when he received word that Arthur was once again lying comatose in a hospital bed at St. Mungo's. Bill had been waiting patiently for the Healers to announce that Arthur would be making a full recovery, chalking up the longer wait to his father's increased age. The thought that this time, Arthur might not recover had never really occurred to Bill. His mother's announcement that they would remove the stasis spell and say their last goodbyes had rocked him to the core.

_All over some stupid alarm clocks_ , he though bitterly.

Bill now stood in the doorway of the tearoom, but found that the thought of more coffee turned his stomach. He gazed around the brightly decorated walls, and knew he did not want to enter into their gaiety. Turning back the way he'd coming, Bill set off without purpose. He would find his way back the to the Weasley corridor, he was sure, but he was not in a great hurry to get there – to rush back to the last few moments of his father's life.

That was how he happened upon Fleur, rushing up the stairs clutching tiny Victorie's hand. The unusually wild state of her hair told Bill that she had only paused long enough to throw clothes onto herself and the children before floo-ing over to the hospital.

"Daddy!" Victorie cried joyously, rushing to his side. The ear to ear grin on his daughter’s face told him she had no concept of what was happening. Bill picked her up and embraced her, trying to hold on to this one oasis on ignorance.

"Bill," Fleur had made it to his side now, slowed by the still sleeping toddler in her own arms. "What’s happened? The Healer's were so optimistic when we left last night. And now I get this Patronus from Molly..."

Bill just shrugged, not wanting to have to explain over again. Fleur peered at him, and appeared to understand, both his hesitation and the meaning behind it. Grief clouded her blue eyes, and she clutched Dominique's slumbering form closer to her, much as Bill had moments before with Victorie.

"Come on, Bill. Let's get upstairs."

Angelina was already there when they arrived, having brought the young Potter's along with her own two young ones. Audrey arrived not long after, rushing to Percy's side and leaving the young Molly to follow Rose over to Ron and Hermione.

"Are we all here?" Percy asked, looking around.

"No," someone spoke up. "Andromeda is bringing Teddy. She should be here soon."

Molly had left Arthur's side, and she stood in the doorway surveying her family. "I thought he would like to say good-bye as well," she whispered. "They were always close."

The grandchildren rushed over to greet Molly, jostling to receive hugs. Bill found himself thankful for the delay. Reaching out, he grabbed Fleur's newly freed hand and squeezed.

"What do I say?"

Bill didn't look back at his wife, but he could feel her move closer to him. Her feathery voice whispered in his ear, "The same thing you say to him every day. You say, I love you."

Using their joined hands to pull Bill forward, Fleur propelled them both towards Arthur’s room. With his wife at his side, Bill entered.

Arthur lay on the bed, pale and drawn. A faint silver glint where the light from the window struck his body revealed the stasis spell in action. Healer Clearwater stood over him, her wand running the length of his prone body as she ran tests. Finishing, she stood back against the wall, silently waiting for everyone to enter. Once the last to arrive – Mrs. Tonks and Teddy, accompanied by Molly – had entered, she stepped forward.

“He’ll be very groggy when he wakes up. He won’t really know what’s going on, so try not to overwhelm him.”

Healer Clearwater’s wand ran the length of Arthur’s body once more, this time drawing the faint hint of silver back into its tip. Arthur’s eyelids began to twitch, and a small groan issued from his throat, but otherwise there was no change. Healer Clearwater summoned a goblet and filled it with a thick, blue potion.

“ _Rennervate_.”

Arthur began to come to, his response to the spell much slower than would be expected. Healer Clearwater motioned Molly forward, and the two woman propped Arthur up into a semi-sitting position.

“Can you hear me, Mr. Weasley? I need you to drink this potion for me – it will help you feel better so you can visit with your family.” Clearwater lifted the goblet to Arthur’s lips and he swallowed the contents down by instinct.

“Wha - what hap ...” Arthur’s voice was dry and weak; his words caught in his throat and he had to stop and swallow again, unable to finish.

“Oh, Arthur,” Molly said in the tone of voice she had used to tend sick children. One hand clutched tightly to her husbands, the other fluttered about fluffing his pillow and straightening his coverlet. “How do you feel?”

“What hit me?” Arthur whispered, managing a soft smile. His voice was hoarse, and his eyes red and drooping, but the smile seemed genuine. Molly summoned a watery one to match.

The grandchildren were beckoned forward, and Arthur greeted each of them with muted version of his usual delight. By turn each climbed up to his side to give tiny hugs and receive whispered words of love. Come Lily’s turn Ginny carried her forward and Arthur’s grin seemed to spread a bit more on his lined face.

“My baby girls.”

Arthur stretched out a shaky hand to stroke his youngest grandchild’s cheek. The shaking seemed to increase steadily as he crossed the distance between them, and Bill, too late, realized the significance a moment before his father’s whole body fell into similar convulsions. The young children cried out in horror and were quickly ushered away from the bed and into the hallway. Healer Clearwater leaped forward, her wand moving so fast as to be a blur in the air.

The convulsions slowly came under control, and Healer Clearwater retreated back from the bed, though not so far as before. “He’s failing even faster than I expected. I – I don’t think it will be much longer now.”

Their time almost gone now, they all gathered around to say their last goodbyes. Ginny, unable to speak through her tears, was escorted out by Harry, and finally Bill found himself facing Arthur. His father’s body lay wasted before him; he had not fully regained consciousness after his seizure, and simply laid there, his eyes half open slits. Try though he might, Bill could not see a trace of the strong, healthy man he had been. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Bill leaned down and whispered right in his father’s ear, “I love you, Dad.”

Turning away, Bill pushed his way through his siblings and out into the hallway. Fleur followed close behind, her eyes full of love and sorrow. Bill pulled her to him, allowing himself to get lost in her warm embrace. Victorie joined them, and he reached a hand down to hold on to her without looking.

It was the silence that brought him to. The sound of the door opening and closing so softly that he should not have heard it, save for the silence. Looking up he saw his mother standing in the doorway. There was an empty, broken look on her face.

“He’s gone,” she said, and started to cry.

 

***

**10:05AM  
** **Monday, October 29, 2007  
** **Ministry of Magic  
** **London, England**

Doyle had been in the tiny holding cell at the Ministry since his arrival. It was small and bare, room for nothing but a narrow, hard-as-rocks cot and a run-down latrine. One wall was comprised entirely of steel bars, and on the other side of it an Auror was always stationed. He had lost his wand during the fight back at his house, and it had never been returned to him, but he did not need it to sense the heavy wards that were in place around the entire cell. The hair on the back of his arms practically stood on end. He had done his best to maintain his cool; sneering at the Aurors who brought him his meals, lounging on his cot as though he hadn’t a care in the world and using the facilities without a hint of embarrassment at the lack of privacy. The reality of the situation was quite different – he fell asleep each night with the younger Weasley’s fury-filled face pushed up against his own filling his mind’s eye – but he was determined that the flunkies that had been set to tend him not know that.

And for the most part he had done a pretty good job of it. But here it was halfway through Monday morning, and he had still seen neither hide nor hair of anyone except for his current jailer – at present a burly young man with a stupid expression. He had poisoned the Head Auror’s father-in-law, for Merlin’s sake! He had expected to have been dealt with immediately; what could be more important than him, after all?

His nerves were starting to show, he knew, as he started in surprise at the sound of knuckles cracking. Turning, he saw the brute grinning stupidly and deliberately cracking his knuckles again. Honestly, did they let anyone become an Auror these days?

The sound of a door opening down the hall caused Doyle to draw himself up, trying to appear unconcerned. Finally, someone was coming for him. Hopefully he would be taken straight to the Wizengamot and wouldn’t have to deal with Weasley again. This hope was short lived. Soon the all too familiar freckled face appeared in front of his cell, accompanied now by a short, obviously pregnant woman.

“Morning, Doyle,” Weasley began with false pleasantry. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but my father passed away over the weekend.”

Doyle forced himself to meet the other man’s eyes. This wasn’t a surprise. He had been fairly sure the old man wouldn’t make it – not quite as sure as he had let on to Weasley, but confident nonetheless. He knew, however, that this made things ten times worse for himself, and with Weasley here before him, Doyle felt his forced calm begin to steadily unravel.

“I don’t know if you have ever heard of my wife,” Weasley continued, the same pleasant tone laced with menace. “Hermione Weasley, nee Granger. Smartest witch of her age. Magical Law Enforcement’s number one lawyer – she hasn’t lost a case in three years. And, lucky for you, she’s delaying her maternity leave just so that she can prosecute the hell out of you.”

Doyle recognized her now. Her picture had been in the Prophet once in a while, usually accompanied by some story about goblins or some other filthy non-human. But she was every bit as good as her husband claimed, he knew that much.

“Mr Doyle. I haven’t yet read your file, but from the artefacts I heard they pulled out of your house, I can personally guarantee that the only daylight you will be seeing will be through steel bars for a very, very long time. I’ll see you in court.”

Doyle didn’t say anything as the two turned and walked back the way they came. Hearing the far off door slam, he pulled his knees up to his chest and fought off tears. He was screwed.

 

***

**5:20PM  
** **Tuesday, January 15, 2008  
** **St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries  
** **London, England**

Molly tumbled out of the large hearth onto the lobby floor. Straightening up, she hurried across the room to the far staircase trying not to think of the last time she had walked these white halls. It had been three long, hard months since she had lost Arthur and she still found new ways to miss him every day. Today, she knew, would be harder than most.

She had been dreading today just as much as she had been looking forward to it, but it was not until she had received the Patronus from her youngest son that she had realized just how hard this was going to be. Thirteen times in her life had she rushed to the delivery room, eager to meet the newest Weasley, and Arthur had been at her side each time. She went alone this time, and felt the absence most keenly.

_This is a happy occasion_ , she told herself sternly. _Stop your fussing over what was and concentrate on what you are gaining._

Setting her mouth determinedly, Molly continued on until she reached the familiar corridors of the maternity wing. It was funny that this area of the hospital never seemed to change, no matter how long she was away from it. She peered up the corridor trying to remember the room number she had been told. She had been so flustered when the silvery terrier had appeared before her she had not taken proper note. A young man in Healer’s green was heading down the hallway, clipboard in hand, and Molly extended a hand to stop him and ask for directions.

The healer looked up in surprise, but his expression quickly softened. “Mrs Weasley, you must be looking for your son.”

Molly felt an eyebrow rise at being recognized. _I’m not here that often_.

“Yes, my daughter-in-law is in labour. Can you help me?”

“Room 409,” he responded with a smile, pointing back down the hall the way he had come.

Molly hurried off, throwing a thank you over her shoulder as she went. Finding the room, she was met at the door by her son, beaming with pride.

“Mum! You made it!”

“Ron dear, of course I did. You didn’t think I would miss the birth of one of my grandchildren, did you?”

The expression on his face told her that the thought had in fact crossed his mind. She hadn’t been as careful at hiding her doubts and fears as she had thought, it seemed. Reaching out to take Ron’s larger hand in her own, she reassured him and herself. “No matter what, there is nowhere else in the world I would rather be right now. Now, how is Hermione doing? And where is everyone, for Merlin’s sake!”

“They are all just getting off work, Mum. I’m sure they will all be here when they can. Hermione’s doing fine. Much better than last time – at this rate, the Healers say the baby could be out in an hour or two!”

Molly squeezed Ron’s hand, remembering how hard Hermione’s first pregnancy had been on her. Harry and Ginny soon joined them, and Ron retreated back into his wife’s room. Angelina arrived shortly after, announcing she had closed shop early and left the accounts and kids with George. They sat and waited, Ginny getting up to pace the room every so often while Harry looked on fondly.

“How can you sit there so calmly?” Ginny spit at her husband for the fifth time. “ _Anything_ could be happening in there!”

“I suppose,” Harry agreed mildly. “But I’m inclined to think its most likely child-birth.”

Ginny reared back to retort, but was thankfully cut short. The door to Hermione’s room had opened, once move admitting Ron into the hallway. Molly could tell from the proud, dazed look on her son’s face that his prediction had been correct, and that Hermione had had a much easier go of it this time round. Ron took in the five of them waiting silently and his mouth began to stretch into a lop-sided grin.

“Mum, do you want to meet your newest grandchild?”

Molly felt her cheeks stretched taut in matching joy, and she bustled forward. “Out of my way, Ginerva, dear. I have a baby to meet.”

The room was typically small, made even more so by the two healers finishing their clean up off to the side. Most of the space was taken up by the large hospital bed, and the two figures in it. Hermione looked worn out; sweaty and content. Her head was bent down to her chest, where a small blanketed bundle nestled. Stepping carefully forward, so as not to disturb the newborn, Molly reached the bed side.

“Molly,” Hermione looked up at her approach with a smile. “Would you like to hold him?”

“Him?” Molly asked with a slight wobble in her voice, reaching for the proffered bundle. A tiny, cherubic face gazed up at her from the depths of the blue cotton.

“Hugo Arthur Weasley,” Ron whispered.

Molly looked up sharply to see Ron and Hermione watching closely to see her reaction. Tears blurred her eyes and she looked back down to see that Hugo had settled comfortably into her arms and fallen right back to sleep.

It was going to be alright, she knew. As long as she had her family to fill the emptiness left behind, it would be alright.


End file.
